


Enough

by Sarahtoo



Series: A Modern Woman [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Jack woke to the growling of his stomach. His room was dark, the only illumination the moonlight that streamed through a gap in the curtains and the red numbers on his alarm clock. Carefully, gently, he extricated himself from the bed, doing his best not to wake the woman who slept beside him.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Series: A Modern Woman [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479383
Comments: 14
Kudos: 116





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this Tumblr post](https://acrazyobsession.tumblr.com/post/619544511397429248/chilladelphiaa-youre-safe-as-long-as-you-dont) and thought, “well. There’s a picture.” This didn’t go quite the way I planned it, but I think it worked out all right in the end.

Jack woke to the growling of his stomach. His room was dark, the only illumination the moonlight that streamed through a gap in the curtains and the red numbers on his alarm clock. 3:17 am. Damn it. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the rumbling in his belly, but it was no use. His own fault for skipping dinner, but if he didn’t eat something, he’d never get back to sleep. He took a deep breath, cursing his own metabolism.

Carefully, gently, he extricated himself from the bed, doing his best not to wake the woman who slept beside him. Phryne grumbled softly, making him smile, and stretched out. The light of the moon caressed her naked spine and her dark tousled hair as she sprawled. How a woman so small could take up so much room, he didn’t know. As he pulled on his pajama pants, he looked down at her, tenderness swamping him. He’d just go make a snack and then come back to reclaim some of the bed. If she woke at that point, well, he knew how to persuade her to share.

As he left the bedroom and made his way down the narrow staircase toward his kitchen, his thoughts centered on her. They’d been friends with benefits for several months now, and it had become a habit to spend the night at his house or hers several times a week. She’d spent the past week in Sydney on some kind of work trip, and though he hadn’t asked, he didn’t delude himself that she’d been celibate. That wasn’t their arrangement, and he found that it didn’t really matter. She’d come to him on her arrival back in Melbourne, she’d made love to him—he knew she wouldn’t call it that, but he’d felt it—and she currently slept in his bed. 

He also knew that she valued her friends far more highly than any one-night encounter, and she considered him a friend. She had a family that she’d pulled him into, really. Not by blood, but built of people she loved and was loved by. Her PA Dorothy, her butler, the two blokes who ran her car service, her best friend Mac and her girlfriend—and Jack. It had happened slowly, but he’d become a fixture at her table, over nightcaps in her parlor, and in her investigative work. More important than a lover, he thought. It was enough.

Padding quietly into the kitchen on bare feet, he realized that they’d never dug into the supper basket she’d brought when she arrived. It sat on his countertop, undisturbed in the moonlight that shone brightly through the tall windows that looked out on his tiny back garden. With a grin, he pulled the basket toward him, knowing there would be something delicious inside. Her butler was a chef who’d trained at Le Cordon Bleu, and he excelled at the creation of meals for every occasion. Jack figured he’d find something to tide him over, and put the rest away for breakfast. 

Ten minutes later, he’d stowed the crisp bacon, lettuce, and tomato slices in the fridge, along with the fresh fruit, leaving the fresh-baked bread in its cotton towel wrapper on the counter—BLTs for breakfast. Trust Mr. Butler to send a dinner that could do double duty. Leaning his elbows on the kitchen island, he dug into the dish of creamy potato salad that had been packed alongside the sandwich ingredients. Stifling a moan at the flavors—the man really was a genius in the kitchen—he was about halfway through the dish when soft hands slid around his waist and even softer curves pressed against him.

“I woke up and you were gone,” she murmured against his back. “And then I came down to hear you making sex noises—am I interrupting?”

With a soft laugh, Jack straightened and turned, lifting an arm to pull her around to his front. She wore his t-shirt from earlier in the evening, a deep navy blue with the cover art from Eric Clapton’s _Unplugged_ album on the front. It suited her.

“We missed dinner,” he explained, wrapping his arms around her. “I was just having a snack. Want some?” 

Reaching out, he scooped a spoonful of potato salad and brought it to her lips. She opened her mouth, and he watched, fascinated, as he fed her. A hum of pleasure escaped her, and he felt it like a stroke against his skin.

“Good?” He heard the growl in his voice and watched her eyes turn knowing.

“Very.” She licked her lips. “Now you.”

Holding her eyes, he took another bite, then fed her again, watching her expression as she savored. In silence, they finished the dish, and Jack laid the spoon in it before wrapping his arms around her again.

“Did you get enough?” Her voice was soft, and she lifted a hand to lay it flat on his chest, her palm resting lightly over his nipple.

“I’m still hungry,” he admitted.

“Let’s find you something else to eat, then.” She made to pull away, and he tugged her back.

“I know just what I’m craving,” he murmured, and setting his hands on her waist, lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter.

“Oh! Cold!” She hissed as her bottom settled on the concrete countertop.

“Not to worry.” Jack stepped between her knees, then touched his mouth to hers. “I’ll warm you up.”

He kissed her, loving the feel of her mouth beneath his, her hips under his hands. Phryne arched into him, her arms snaking up and around his neck, her hand gripping his hair. Jack pushed closer to nestle the hardness that had been growing as they shared their snack into her damp heat. 

Slipping his hands under the edge of the t-shirt she wore, he stroked her back, then cupped a breast. She gasped into his mouth as his fingers found her nipple, and he worked the nub with his fingers, wishing he could feel it on his tongue without breaking this kiss. Before long, she was pulsing her hips against his cock, and he needed to taste her. Lifting his head, he held her eyes as he pushed the shirt up. 

Phryne raised her arms, allowing him to pull it off of her, leaving her clad in nothing but moonlight. Jack tossed the shirt over his shoulder, and shook his head. Her skin shone like alabaster, her breasts tipped in pink and the dark thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs a mysterious shadow. She dropped her hands to his shoulders, her eyes on his face.

“Phryne…” Her name was a prayer whispered into the night and he followed it by dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth. 

She stroked his hair as he suckled her, her other hand flexing on his shoulder and her knees tightening against his ribs. 

“Jack.” The whisper left her on a breath, and her head lolled backward as he switched sides to pay his respects to her other nipple.

Her skin was sweet and slightly salty from their earlier exertions, and her nipple was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted—or almost. Drawing his mouth from her breasts, he kissed and licked his way down her belly to bury his face between her thighs. His fingers gripped her hips, and Phryne laid a hand behind her on the counter and slid one knee upward, her heel at his back.

Jack gorged himself on her, looping an arm under her knee to push it higher on his shoulder, his fingers slipping down her thigh to join his tongue at her pleasure points. Her free hand tangled in his hair, and he reveled in the pull against his scalp that intensified when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Her flavor—his favorite—burst against his tongue, slightly different for each part of her. He loved the fat bud of her clitoris and the way she said his name when he suckled it; the muscular pulses of her channel around his fingers and his tongue made the blood pulse in his cock. When she came, her wail of pleasure echoed against the high ceilings of his home, and Jack hoped the sound would reverberate forever.

Raising his head, he stood to kiss her again, and she ate at his mouth as if she was starving. He felt her hands at the ties of his pajama pants, and then shoving the flannel down his hips to wrap her fingers around his cock. Groaning, he shoved himself closer, loving the friction her hands provided.

“Jack,” she gasped, “condom? Please tell me there’s a condom down here.”

“Um,” he responded, lifting his head and attempting to think. Hard to do, given where her hands were. “Bathroom?”

“Too far,” she whimpered, and looked wildly around. “Jack! Yes! My bag—can you reach it?”

“Wh- where?” Jack forced his eyes open.

“Table,” she muttered, “behind you.”

Twisting, Jack looked—sure enough, her purse sat on the dining table almost directly behind where he stood. He glanced between them and the table. No need to step away, thank god. He reached out a hand, grasping for it. Stretching, he touched the handle but his fingers slipped off. Stifling a curse, he shifted to try again. Phryne’s legs tightened around his waist, and he lunged, trusting that she’d hold him. His fingers caught on the bag’s half-circle handle, and with a triumphant shout, he dropped it on the counter beside her. 

“Clever man,” she breathed, taking one hand off of him to pop the clasp and slide a hand inside. A moment later, she withdrew a foil packet, her smile brilliant.

“Thank god you are always prepared.” He took the condom from her hand, leaning in to kiss her quickly but thoroughly, enjoying the taste of her tongue. 

“Now,” he said, once he’d covered himself.

“Now,” she agreed, her hand wrapping around his length again to place him at her entrance. 

With his mouth on hers, Jack slid inside her body, feeling her close around him, warm and tight. Hands on her hips, he tugged her to him until he was buried to his base. He felt her hands on his face as he held there, and lifted his head to meet her eyes. 

“Jack,” she whispered, “my Jack.”

At her words, the urgency he’d been feeling fell away and his mind cleared. She was everything he wanted, and more. He held her eyes as he moved slowly within her, withdrawing before pushing back in. He took his time, feeling all of her against all of him. Sliding one hand up her back, he pushed his fingers into her hair, his forehead coming close to touch against hers, his eyes open.

“One half of me is yours,” he murmured, “the other half yours. Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, and so all yours.” 

“Nerd.” The word escaped her on a tender breath, and she laughed, breathy and sweet, as she said it. 

Jack grinned as he worked to build her pleasure, slowly and steadily. He watched the heat rise in her cheeks and across the tops of her breasts, her mouth slightly open as she held his gaze. 

“You are so beautiful,” he said, watching the flush obscure the tiny freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones. Leaning in, he kissed the tip of her nose, watching it wrinkle and the smile lines appear at the corners of her eyes. He loved this Phryne as much or more than the polished urbanite who took on the world every day. This Phryne was at once stronger and more fragile, more likely to give her body than her heart, which made any small gift of a piece of her something to treasure.

“I missed you.” Phryne’s words made his lips curve. “I didn’t think I would, Jack, but…” She tilted her head, kissing him with her eyes open as he continued to move, slow and steady, between her thighs. “Next time, you should come with me.” 

“I think that could be arranged,” Jack brushed his lips over hers. He could feel his orgasm building, the idea that she’d want him with her making his heart swell and his balls tighten. He slid the hand on her hip up to cover her breast, its slight weight filling his palm perfectly. Her breath caught as he lightly squeezed her, and he pressed his hips into hers, grinding lightly against her clit.

“I didn’t want anyone but you,” she said, the barely audible words entering his mouth like the sweetest wine, sending a rush to his head. “Only you, Jack.”

Jack knew that his face must show just how much her words meant to him. How much he loved her. He said her name again, against her lips, slanting his head to kiss her deeply, his tongue slipping in to greet hers. Swallowing her small cry, he felt her climax shudder through her, the pulses of her pleasure rippling down his length. His own moan sliding into her mouth, he pushed until he was inside her as far as he could manage as he let his own release wash over him.

Bodies trembling, they held each other, heads tucked into the other’s neck as they breathed through the aftermath of pleasure. Jack thought the words _I love you_ as hard as he could, but did not say them—she wasn’t ready to hear them, not yet. Maybe she never would be. But he would love her anyway.

“We should go back to bed before we fall asleep right here,” she said, her words muffled against his skin, but the laughter in her tone clear.

“I suppose you’re right,” he murmured, loving the feel of her skin against his lips. “I’ll get right on that, as soon as I can feel my knees.”

Her back shook as she laughed, and he lifted his head to watch the joy suffuse her features. So beautiful. Sliding his hands up to cup her face, he kissed her on her laughing mouth before drawing away to help her back to bed. Under the covers, she laid her head on his shoulder, one arm thrown across his chest and one leg hooked over his.

“My Jack,” she murmured, and he smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her hair.

Rilke had it right, he thought. Loving someone might be the most difficult task of all—the work for which all other work is only practice. He thought he’d practiced enough, and now he was ready for the main event. So he would love her to the best of his ability, just as she was. She loved him too, he knew, perhaps more than she realized. And that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote about being yours is from The Merchant of Venice, which of course Jack would have the wherewithal to come up with while in the throes of passion. Right? Sure. I’m going with it.
> 
> And the actual Rilke quote: “For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.”


End file.
